


Rain: A collection

by lostintheverse



Category: Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe - Benjamin Alire Sáenz
Genre: Alternate Ending, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, POV Aristotle "Ari" Mendoza, POV Dante Quintana, POV Third Person, Parallel Universes, let's see how it goes, trying something new here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2020-10-04 19:34:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20476370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostintheverse/pseuds/lostintheverse
Summary: I love two parallel reality concepts: One, that we have certain relationships, certain outcomes that are fated, and the paths we choose to get to each one are where our free choice comes in. But for every incarnation of us (assuming there are many), these certain cosmic promises always come about, sooner or later.The other possibility with parellel realities is that our paths tend to be the same, but every outcome that can happen, does, so the longer we are incarnate, the more our lives branch out into infinite tendrills, and nothing is promised except the journey.This was a published fic (Rain), but I'm turning it a collection, with each chapter being its own short story that is a parallel reality for A & D. In the vast majority of them, they end up together, because frankly Ari/Dante is my safe space and I need it. But once in a while I'll get brave and throw in a reality where it doesn't work out for them - at least not in the fic.So if you've read Rain, check out the next chapters as they unfold. Each its own ficlet, unrelated to the ones before and after.





	1. Rain (the OG)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pai61](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pai61/gifts).
**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final scene in the desert went down differently. But the ending is ultimately the same.

DANTE

My window is open and the rain is deafening, but I’ve finally stopped sobbing. It’s like the world had mercy on me and took my weeping for itself, if only for a little while. The rain started up around midnight, just after Ari had dropped me off outside my house. He hadn’t gotten out of the truck. He didn’t watch  _ me  _ get out of the truck. He’d stared stonily ahead, his face a blank mask. In a way, that was the worst moment. 

When I told him I couldn’t be friends with him anymore, I’d honestly thought that maybe it would jar him out of whatever stone fortress he lives in. That’s not why I did it - that would be unforgivably manipulative. I did it to stay sane, because every time I saw him, every time I heard his voice, my unrequited love would break my heart anew. When I still believed there was hope for us, I’d been able to take it. But something about the silent treatment he gave me for five days just broke me. I wasn’t sure he’d ever talk to me again, for one thing, and I didn’t even understand  _ why.  _ And then I also knew he probably  _ would  _ talk to me again, eventually, and we’d just cycle back into our platonic relationship where I couldn’t have him, and he didn’t want me to have anyone else, and...I just couldn’t deal with that. It was bad enough that I woke up with and went to sleep to a bone-deep longing that never got fulfilled, but then there was Ari’s moodiness to deal with, the drama, the way he shut down so severely when I made him mad. Which I would NEVER do on purpose, but it happened anyway. 

I had finally come to realize that the pain was starting to outweigh the joy in our relationship. And I couldn’t stand to watch that happen, to let it get worse and worse until we ended up resenting each other. Better to quit while we’re ahead. 

But I’d still hoped, deep down, that he wouldn’t let me do it. The best thing would have been for him to stop my words with a kiss, for him to declare that he loved me and was just scared but being with me was worth conquering his fear. That would have been the best thing, but I would have been happy with a simple, “don’t do this, Dante.” I wouldn’t have even minded another fight. 

But what I got was radio silence. I pushed him away and said, “I don’t like it when you touch me,” and then he just stared at me and I watched a light go out in his eyes, I watched the curtains close and the doors slam shut, and after a minute he just walked back around the truck, got in, and waited. I stood there, my whole body shaking, reeling from the emptiness inside me. Then I opened the door and climbed back into the passenger seat, and he cranked up the truck and pulled away from our spot without a word.

He drove all the way to my house in silence. How very Ari. How very devastating. He’d just accepted the end of our friendship without the slightest protest. 

But that wasn’t the worst thing.

The worst thing was how he stared straight ahead when I got out of the truck. I didn’t know what to say. I crossed in front of the truck and stood by his door and looked at him, but he never once looked over at me. Is this it? I thought. A sudden desperate, irrational urge came over me to ask him what he was doing tomorrow, to make plans to see him again, like maybe tomorrow none of this would be real. We’d be fine. All would be back to normal.

But normal wasn’t okay with me, I reminded myself. That was the whole point. I took a deep breath, to say something, anything. I couldn’t have the last words I spoke to him be “I don’t like it when you touch me.” And how could  _ he _ let that be the last words spoken between us? How could he not say anything? Not even look at me? It suddenly hit me that maybe I’d never meant to him what I thought I did. That I’d been grossly mistaken, and the power of our friendship had been completely one-sided. 

That was the worst thing.

So I stood silently, watching him, begging him with my eyes to look at me. Trying to think of something to say. I couldn’t. I couldn’t think of a damn thing. Then he’d cranked up his truck and backed out of my driveway and was gone, and it was too late.

By some miracle my parents were already in bed. I couldn’t have faced them right then. I couldn’t have faced anyone. I went into the bathroom, feeling cold and numb, and brushed my teeth and washed my face and looked in the mirror, and I didn’t recognize the boy looking back at me. This Dante-without-Ari. He was a stranger. I tried to remind myself that I hadn’t always known Ari, that I’d been Dante-without-Ari most of my life. But it didn’t help; it didn’t matter. I knew him now. That changed everything. This was a new version of Dante-without-Ari, and it was a broken thing.

Then I’d gone into my room and I saw his jacket on my floor amidst my things, and I dissolved into tears. Never in my life had I cried like that. That deeply. It was like my sobs were coming from a place so deep inside me I hadn’t known it existed until right then.

And then the rain started, so loud it was like a freight train right outside, and after a few minutes I stood up on shaky legs and opened the window so I could hear it at its full volume and feel the cool moist air. And somehow that action had calmed my hysteria. Like I said, the universe did tradesies with me. It didn’t stop the pain in my chest - it didn’t even stop the tears. It just calmed me, quieted me.

And now I’m sitting on my floor, clutching his jacket to me, feeling the tears stream down my face and drip onto my knees. Trying to find a center of balance in this new, bleak future I’ve made for myself.

I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting here. Maybe just a few minutes. Maybe an hour. It doesn’t matter. Time feels meaningless now, now that it’s not measuring the distance between the last time I saw Ari and the next time I’ll see him. 

There won’t be a next time, unless we run into each other around town, and then what will he do? Ignore me. I’m sure of it. Look right through me if he looks at me at all. 

The tears are finally stopping, though the rain is heavier than ever. I think I’m all cried out. I can’t bring myself to get up, though. Get into bed. I just keep sitting here on the floor.

The rain is so loud, it’s easy to convince myself I imagine the sound of his truck outside. I know that sound so well; I always know when he gets to my house because his truck is pretty loud. And I swear that’s it, outside, just barely discernible under the sound of the monsoon. 

But it’s not. I’m just imagining it, remembering it. I’ll probably hear it again and again in days to come, but it won’t be real. 

Then it stops. The imagined sound. I swear it was just there, and now it’s not. And...was that the sound of a door slamming? The doors on the truck are heavy. They’re loud when they slam closed. I think about slamming the door closed tonight, when I got out of the truck. Right after I’d told him I couldn’t keep being friends with him and right before I told him I didn’t like it when he touched me. 

I know it’s not him. He didn’t come back. This infernal hope inside my heart just doesn’t want to die, but it needs to. It  _ has _ to. 

“Dante!” Ari’s voice cries, right outside my window.  _ That _ I didn’t imagine. I’m at my window so fast I don’t even register clambering up before I’m there, hanging halfway out, the rain pelting me painfully. Ari is five feet away, on the roof of our porch. I can barely see him through the sheets of rain between us. But he’s there. He’s _ there.  _

“Will you come down and let me in?” He yells over the noise. Without a word, I’m dashing out my door and down the stairs in my bare feet, trying to be quiet so as not to wake my parents, unable to slow the pounding of my heart. I unlock the front door and step onto the porch just in time to see him swinging down on the far end. He lands on the hood of his truck, then jumps from there onto the porch. He’s drenched. He may as well have just hopped out of a swimming pool. His hair is hanging in dripping strands, clumps of it stuck to his face. His clothes are sagging on him. 

He’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.

The way he walks over to me is not a way I’ve ever seen him walk. It’s fast and purposeful. I open my mouth to ask him what he’s doing here or tell him I love him or who knows what, but before I can make a sound he’s got one hand on the back of my neck and the other on my hip and he’s pulling me against him, and he’s kissing me. He’s kissing me, full force, no holding back. Not a shred of hesitation. 

I kiss him back the same way. I can’t believe this is real. I’m lightheaded, dizzy, and it’s a good thing he’s wrapped his arms around me because I think I’d sink to the ground if he wasn’t holding me up. Water leaches into my t-shirt and jeans from his, rainwater from our hair drips all over my face and shoulders, and I cling to him. He keeps kissing me, and kissing me, and kissing me. I keep kissing him back.

After what feels like forever (time is meaningless now, too, in an entirely different way), he pulls his mouth away from mine just enough to look into my eyes. 

“I’m in love with you,” he says hoarsely. My heart is in my throat. “I’m in love with you, Dante. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I love you. I’m sorry.” He keeps kissing me in between every sentence. “Take me back, okay? Take me back. Take me back.” He sounds like he’s about to completely break down. 

“Ari, Ari.” I say, taking his face in my hands, holding his gaze. I can feel how big I’m smiling.  _ “Yes.”  _


	2. Sex Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ari has a sexy dream that changes everything (no smut, just vague references to sex).

ARI

My hands were shaking when I knocked on the Quintanas’ door, but if Sam noticed anything when he opened the door and ushered me in, enfolding me in an embrace, he didn’t let on. I smiled and tried to make polite conversation with Sam in the foyer, but I was so agitated it was more difficult than usual. (It was always difficult, still, with anyone but Dante. Dante was the only person I felt completely comfortable around. This re-realization only served to agitate me more.)

“How’ve you been? How is school?” Sam was all smiles, like he was truly happy I was standing in front of him.

“Um,” was all I could manage for a moment. Then I pulled myself together enough to say, “Great. I mean, it’s school, so not  _ that  _ great. But it’s fine.” I wasn’t trying to be funny, but Sam laughed anyway. “How’s...you know. Classes at uni?”

“So far so good,” Sam answered. “I have a student in my British Lit class that may prove to be my downfall. She argues with everything I say. She reminds me of Dante.” 

That made me laugh, but even as I laughed, my eyes darted towards the staircase. I had to get upstairs. I had to talk to Dante. 

Sam cocked an eyebrow. “You’re not into this whole how’s-it-going thing right now, are you?”

I felt myself blush, and smiled at him sheepishly. Then I shrugged. I was a little worried about seeming rude, but Sam’s smile widened (which frankly had seemed impossible).

“By all means,” Sam said, gesturing broadly up the stairs. I grinned at him gratefully and dashed up.

I was terrified, so terrified that my stomach felt like it had a lead ball in it. And yet I couldn’t wait a moment longer. Maybe I couldn’t wait  _ because _ I was terrified. Or maybe it was because I’d wasted so much time. I was confused, but I also felt like I’d never been thinking more clearly. 

See, when I woke from my dreams this morning, everything had changed. Because I’d had a dream about Dante, but unlike the million dreams I’d had about kissing Dante that were vague enough that, the moment I awoke, I could tell myself I didn’t know  _ whom _ I’d been kissing in the dream, this one was different. It was more than kissing, for one thing. It was...touching. Tender words. Skin against skin. Gasps and whimpers. Things that made my heart pound when I woke up. I was full of shame. 

Shame, and, well. Desire.

To put it simply, it had been a sex dream. And it was  _ definitely _ about Dante. The moment I woke up, I realized there was no way I could pretend I didn’t know that. And that’s when it was suddenly crystal clear that, typically, I pretended I didn’t know. I pretended I didn’t know who I was kissing when I had dreams that required a cold shower. All this time, my unconscious mind had been leveling with me, but my conscious mind was so carefully guarded, it had won out.

Not this time. This time, I didn’t take a cold shower. This time I laid in bed, letting it sink in that all of these feelings...all of them...even the ones I had told myself I had for Ileana...were about Dante. They were all about Dante. 

They always had been.

And then I’d panicked, but not for the reason one might have anticipated. I didn’t panic because I was scared of being a gay man in a world that hated gay men (though I was). I didn’t panic because I thought my parents might disown me like they had Bernardo (though I was). I didn’t panic because I was afraid that if I let myself love Dante, I would be forever running the risk that Dante would figure out that he was way out of my league, and then I would be left alone, more alone than I’d ever been because I would have let myself know, for a while, what it felt like to be adored. (Though I was afraid of this, too.) 

I panicked because I was afraid it was too late. That I had pushed Dante away too much (after all, Dante was with Daniel now - did that mean he had given up on me?), that I had hurt Dante too many times. That the chance had passed. And I realized, then, how truly devastating that would be. Because Dante was the only person I could be myself around. Because I cared more about Dante than I had ever cared about anyone, ever. Because Dante had somehow dismantled the fortress I’d built around myself and had made me feel  _ not alone _ for the first time I could remember. 

Because that sex dream had been out of this world. 

I had lain in bed, thinking about this, letting it sink in by degrees exactly what was happening. What  _ had _ happened, that first day we’d met. What  _ could _ happen, if I wasn’t too late. Then I’d gotten out of bed, and gotten dressed, and left the house with the sole intention of changing my life forever. 

  
  


DANTE

I was curled up on my bed reading when I heard a knock on the door. I figured it was one of my parents, so I called, “Come in,” without even looking up from my novel. The door opened, then shut, and that’s when I looked up. Because that was weird. My parents didn’t usually just enter my room in silence and close the door. 

Ari was standing there, backed against the closed door with wide eyes, like he’d been caught doing something that was completely against the rules. And even though that was a bit odd, just seeing Ari standing in my bedroom made my heart trip. It always did. 

I smiled.

  
  


ARI

The moment I entered Dante’s room, all my confidence dissipated. What was I  _ doing? _ Was I seriously going to declare my love right here, right now, just like that? Was I going to  _ kiss  _ Dante? (God, I wanted to.) What was I thinking? I suddenly realized that, for all the reflecting and epiphanizing I’d done in bed earlier, I hadn’t made a solid plan. 

And Dante was smiling at me like he was delighted to see me, which only made it worse. Well, worse and better. Worse because I knew I had to do  _ something _ ...I couldn’t just play this off like a casual drop-by. I couldn’t leave this room without somehow crossing that line I was so terrified to cross. But better, too, because if Dante was smiling at me like that, maybe I wasn’t too late after all. 

“What’s up, Ari?” Dante asked, jumping out of bed. His smile never faltered, and I was speechless. He was just so  _ beautiful. _

Dante grinned at me for a full minute before his expression began to wilt. “What’s wrong?” he asked. 

It’s now or never, Mendoza, I said to myself. I couldn’t stand to see Dante’s smile fade away like that. I couldn’t cause Dante any more distress than I already had.

“I had a dream,” I started, then realized that was probably a completely stupid way to lead. “I had a realization,” I amended. I felt my cheeks heating up. Hell, I felt my whole  _ body  _ heating up, my heart racing, my breath quickening. I felt like I might completely melt down. 

My panic must have been showing on my face, because Dante’s expression was becoming more and more concerned. Dante’s hand moved a little, like he was about to reach out for me to comfort me and then stopped himself. I felt a surge of shame. Dante should never feel like he had to censor himself, to withhold his love and his kindness. Dante overflowed with those things, and I longed for them. I wanted to scream, “Don’t stop! Reach for me, touch me! I need you!” But I had no words. 

And I was tired of it. I was tired of being speechless, of being afraid to express myself, to even let myself know what I felt. I was tired of denying myself the one thing I wanted more than anything. I was tired of denying that I wanted it. 

That I wanted  _ him. _

When I reached for Dante, my hands were still shaking. 

I did it anyway.

  
  
  



	3. In the desert

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What Ari loves most.

“I love the desert, and you. The desert and you, Dante. Those are the things I love the most.”


	4. Hand touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ari's fortress is still too strong. This one is sad, but I like it so I hope you'll read it anyway. 
> 
> References a direct quote of dialogue from page 151.

ARI

We’re lying in the back of the truck, like we’ve done a million times before, looking at the stars, thinking of everything and nothing. Every so often, one of us speaks. Shares what’s in their head. A small conversation ensues. We fall quiet again. 

I’m intricately aware of him beside me. I don’t know when this started, or how I managed to deny it to myself for so long. But one night recently, the back of his hand brushed the back of mine as we laid in the truck stargazing, and I felt an electric jolt go through me. The most powerful urge to roll on top of him and kiss him overcame me. My stomach roiled as I processed it, this deep desire that I couldn’t deny. I mean, I could barely  _ control _ it. Denial was most definitely out of the question. 

I’d been wondering if he sensed it. If things were a little awkward between us since then, or if it was just me, knowing what I know now. That he’s not the only one in love. That when he kissed me that time, it tore me apart inside to pull away. It’s weird, really, how you can feel a searing pain inside and somehow not even acknowledge it, because it violates what you think you know about yourself. I remember that day. I remember how I nearly whimpered, nearly cried, when I pulled away from him and told him it didn’t work for me. I remember the sensation in my chest, like my heart was being wrenched apart. The itching in my fingers, to grab him by the t-shirt and pull him against me. I didn’t let myself think it. I didn’t let myself know it. It didn’t fit with my version of reality, so I felt it all and didn’t acknowledge a thing.

I acknowledge it now. I can’t not. I don’t know what to  _ do _ with it, but I know it’s there. This bone-deep yearning. This complete adoration. It’s inside me every minute of every day. I wake up to it, go to sleep with it. Dream of him at night. Every time the phone rings, my heart starts racing, because what if it’s him? (It’s usually him.) And I’ve realized I always felt this way, since the day we met. I remember giving him a bite of my Payday that time, so early in our relationship. For a split second, I let myself know we were sharing spit. That he’d taken in my germs, and when I took my next bite, I’d be taking in his. That sounds gross, but it wasn’t. It was...intimate. Disarming. Too disarming. I’d shut the thought down before it fully formed. 

And now we’re lying here looking at the stars and I can hardly breathe because he’s so close to me, and it’s so quiet here, and dear God all I want to do is just twist my hand the slightest bit and take his in mine. Feel his fingers twine through my own. Stop this madness that is us wanting each other and doing nothing about it, when we’re both  _ right here.  _ When this longing could be sated so easily. 

_ I’m _ not doing anything about it. He did. He tried, anyway. I shut him down. That means the ball is in my court, and frankly I don’t know how I’ll ever get the courage to pick it up. How can he be so brave? He told me he loved me, having no idea how I’d respond. It could have ended everything. But he’s so true to himself, he did it anyway. I’m not like that. When he told me, I started to say something, and he interrupted me and finished my sentence. “I know that we’re different,” he’d said. “We’re not the same.” And I’d agreed with him. But he didn’t know that I wasn’t talking about his liking guys. I mean, I didn’t  _ not  _ mean that. I wasn’t even really thinking about that part. What I was going to say is, “Dante, I don’t have your courage.” If he’d let me finish, that conversation might have gone very differently. But I was glad he had interrupted me. I wasn’t ready to say anything more. I would have admitted I didn’t have his courage and then I would have run away. Because of lack of said courage. His interruption had saved us from something that could have been incredibly painful. 

Not that it wasn’t painful. It was. For him more than me, I think. At least, he was conscious of the pain of it. I just stuffed the pain down inside with all my other pain. 

Like I continue to do. Because I don’t know what to do with these feelings. I don’t know what to do with  _ him. _ I don’t know what to do with this intensity that lives between us, with the complete reshifting of my identity, with his perfection. 

“What are you thinking about, Ari?” he asks now. 

My hand twitches. His is so close. I can feel it there, right beside mine. I could just take it. I could roll into him and bury my face in his neck. The thought makes my stomach flip over. 

My heart is pounding in my ears. I wonder if he can hear it. I wish he could. I wish he knew. I wish he’d kiss me again. I’d kiss him back this time. But I can’t be the one to initiate it. It’s just too much.

“Nothing,” I say. 

  
  



	5. Dante in the hospital

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one starts with the direct text from pages 306-307, when Dante is in the hospital after having been beaten.

Next thing I knew I was standing in front of Dante, looking at his puffed up, punished face. He was unrecognizable. I couldn’t even see the color of his eyes. I took his hand and whispered his name. He could hardly talk. He could hardly see, his eyes nearly swollen shut. 

“Dante.”

“Ari?”

“I’m here,” I said. 

“Ari?” he whispered.

“I should have been here,” I said. “I hate them. I hate them.” I  _ did _ hate them. I hated them for what they’d done to his face, for what they’d done to his parents.  _ I should have been here. I should have been here.  _

  
  


There was nothing to do at the hospital. Just sit and look at each other. None of us seemed like we were in the mood to talk. 

Finally, I said, “You can go, if you want.” Both his parents looked at me. “I’m going to stay until visiting hours are over. If you want to go home, get a shower. Get some food. I’ll call if anything happens. Anything at all.” 

His parents exchanged looks, and then they both looked at me again. 

“Thank you, Ari,” Sam said, and as if they had planned it, they both stood up. 

  
  


When they were gone, I sat and looked at Dante for a while. I could hardly stand it, but I made myself keep looking. It’s not like my pain was anywhere close to his. It was stifling, but it couldn’t be anything like what he was feeling. The least I could do was look. It made me feel like I was sharing his pain, somehow. Like I was carrying just a little of it, and maybe that little bit made a difference. 

“Ari?” he asked. I jumped, because I’d thought he was asleep. I took his hand. It felt cold. Devoid of the spark that was so completely Dante. I thought I might be sick.

“I’m here.”

He didn’t say anything else, but I knew he was awake. I started to get up, then hesitated and sat back down, then said fuck it and got up. I looked at the cords attaching him to the monitors. One kept track of his heart rate, another of his blood pressure. Another seemed to be monitoring his respiration. I eyed them, figuring out how best to navigate around them. 

Then I crawled into the bed. 

I wasn’t sure what to do with my arms. One of them slid easily between his neck and the pillow, and I wanted to wrap the other around him, but I was afraid of hurting him. I wished I had done this before. Before he got hurt. Back when I could have wrapped my arms around him without worrying about how much it might hurt. 

I settled on resting my other arm on his collarbone, my elbow on his chest. My hand clutched his shoulder. It was awkward, but it worked. I was holding him. 

“Is this okay?” I asked. My voice was so hoarse, it was barely more than a whisper, and only then did I realize I was on the verge of tears. “Does this hurt?”

He made a weird sound, a combination of a breath and a laugh and a whimper. “It’s the only thing that doesn’t hurt,” he said. His voice was so weak I barely heard him.

I let my nose rest against his temple. I was afraid to touch his face any more than that, it was so bruised up and battered. But his temple seemed okay. He pressed his head against me. 

That’s when I cried. Just a little. Just a few quiet tears. I tried not to be too obvious. I didn’t want to upset him. 

He reached up a hand, and I could tell from the tension in his body that it hurt him to do even that. He grasped my arm. He squeezed, then left his hand there.

“I’m okay,” he whispered. “Now.”

  


“Ari. Ari. Wake up, son.”

I inhaled sharply and opened my eyes. Sam was smiling down at me, his hand on my shoulder. I blinked a couple of times, unsure what I was seeing.

“Sam,” I said. My voice was gravily from sleep. I looked around. It took a moment for me to remember, for anything to make sense. 

“Hey there.” Sam kept beaming down at me. I turned my head to look at Dante. He seemed to be asleep. It was hard to tell with his eyes so swollen.

“Dante?” I asked. He made a tiny sound of acknowledgement.

“Do you want to go home? It’s morning.” Sam asked. He was looking so tenderly at me, it made me uncomfortable.

“Morning?” I asked, and I shifted around enough that I realized my arm was asleep. The one under Dante. I didn’t want to move it, though. I wondered what happened if your arm was asleep for too long.

I decided I didn’t care.

“Yep. It’s seven in the morning. I came back last night, but you guys looked so comfortable and...well.” Sam huffed out a laugh, suddenly seeming awkward, which was weird. “Dante’s blood pressure was stabilized. His heart rate, his breathing...everything. It was at a good level.” He shrugged, looking a little sheepish. “It was at a good level for the first time since he got here, Ari. The doctor recommended I just let you guys sleep. He said that you were apparently good for Dante. Good for his healing.” Sam shrugged again. “I hope that’s okay.”

I blinked at him, trying to comprehend everything. “I thought I couldn’t stay past visiting hours. They ended at nine last night.” 

Sam smiled at me. A really pure, simple smile. “I added your name to the list of people allowed to visit him at all hours. Family-level.” 

That filled me with a weird kind of happiness. A kind I hadn’t felt before. I pressed my nose against Dante’s temple again, and he stirred. Just a little. Pushed himself against me just the tiniest bit. I doubted Sam could even notice, but I felt it. 

I glanced up at Sam. He looked really happy, which was weird, considering that his only son was lying in a hospital bed, unable to open his eyes all the way. But then again, it  _ didn’t  _ seem weird. That’s something I love about adults. Sometimes they’re not adults, but sometimes they  _ are.  _ Sometimes they can see the bigger picture above all else. Which can be infuriating, but also kind of beautiful. 

  


I fell back asleep. I woke up a couple of hours later, when Mrs. Quintana arrived. Sam was sitting in a chair, reading. 

I snuggled closer to Dante. It might have been weird, but I didn’t care. People could call it whatever they wanted. Didn’t change a thing. I loved this person who was alive and in my arms. I loved him more than I’d ever loved anyone or anything, and he was alive, and in my arms, and that was all that mattered.

The first thing Mrs. Quintana said was, “The doctor says you’re good for him.” She held my gaze. 

I held hers. I had a thought I normally wouldn’t say, but the way she was looking at me made me say it anyway.  _ “He’s  _ good for  _ me.” _

She was crying a little, but she still smiled. 


	6. Rain II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ari and Dante get together in a slightly different way. Takes place close to the end of the book, after the assault when Dante is still dating Daniel (but in this version Ari didn't give him a five-day silent treatment). 
> 
> A little different than most of my work because it's told in third person.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of the things I like to play in my head as I'm falling asleep (I listen to a rainstorm app to fall asleep so my sleepy fantasies often involve rain ;)) and I finally decided to write it down. Thank you to [yucatanmafia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yucatanmafia/pseuds/yucatanmafia) for the beta-read and encouragement!

As so often happened in El Paso, the rain started without warning. Ari was halfway to Dante’s house when the sky opened up, making it nearly impossible to see the road in front of him, even with the windshield wipers on high. Fortunately, it was a short distance, and he knew the way so well he probably could have driven there with his eyes shut. 

He was a little surprised that he wasn’t afraid, but then again, he wouldn’t have been driving over to Dante’s right then if he was. It was the lack of fear that had made him decide to drop in on Dante. Kind of a full-circle thing. 

He parked his truck in the street, not wanting to block in either of the Quintanas’ cars without knowing what they were doing later, and darted across the lawn to the front door. Even though he ran fast he was still nearly drenched when he leapt up onto the covered porch. 

He let himself in and stopped short, because Sam and Mrs. Quintana were standing right there in the foyer, putting on raincoats. 

“Ari!” Sam cried, sounding (as always) like he was delighted to see him. Ari smiled and kissed and hugged them both. He had to side-hug Mrs. Quintana because of her baby bump. 

“Where are you headed in all this rain?” Ari asked. 

“Rain can’t stop date night,” Sam said, winking. “Dante’s upstairs. Head on up.”

“Thanks. Have fun,” Ari said. They stepped on to the porch and as the front door closed behind them, Ari saw Mr. Quintana opening an umbrella. 

Ari dashed up the stairs, taking them two at a time like he normally did. He stopped at Dante’s closed door, relieved that Sam hadn’t mentioned Daniel being around. He was going to do this regardless, but it would be a hell of a lot better if that asshole wasn’t there to witness it.

He knocked softly, and there was a pause before he heard Dante’s voice, a little snuffly, call out, “Yes?” Ari wondered for a second if he was sick, but surely Sam would have mentioned it.

He opened the door to Dante sitting in a ball on his bed, knees to chest, wiping his cheeks aggressively. This pulled him up short; it was definitely not what he was expecting. He knew the Quintanas didn’t know their son was up here crying, or they wouldn’t have happily skipped out the door on their date.

“What’s wrong?” Ari asked, closing Dante’s door behind him. 

“Nothing. It doesn’t matter,” Dante said, wiping his cheeks again, clearly trying to turn off the tears he was in the midst of shedding.

“Nothing? Bullshit. What’s wrong?” Ari crossed to the bed and sat down at the end of it, a few feet away from where Dante had his back to his pillows. 

“You don’t want to know, Ari,” Dante said, his voice just a little sharp. 

“I do, though.” Ari paused. “Is it Daniel?” Dante gave him such a disgusted look, he leaned back. “Woah, okay, Dante, I didn’t mean anything by that. I just don’t know who else would make you cry.” 

“You really don’t, do you?” Dante asked in a defeated tone.

Tentatively, Ari placed his hand on top of one of Dante’s feet. “Please tell me.”

Dante sighed. “It’s not anything unusual, Ari. I just have to cry sometimes.”

This was news to Ari. He knew Dante was sensitive, and cried fairly easily, but he didn’t know he cried regularly. “But  _ why?” _ he persisted. 

Dante shut his eyes for a moment, then opened them again and met Ari’s gaze solidly. It broke Ari’s heart a little to see how red-rimmed and exhausted Dante’s eyes were. 

“You really want to know?” Dante asked. Ari nodded. 

Dante looked at him, a single tear escaping that he roughly wiped away. “I just...really want you,” he finally admitted. “It’s like an ache in my bones. The longing.”

Ari blinked at him a couple of times, speechless. Overjoyed. He had come here for one reason, but he hadn’t known what to expect and frankly this declaration was better than he had dared to hope. 

“I…” He swallowed and tried again. “I thought you were over me? What about Daniel?”

“Ari!” Suddenly Dante sounded exasperated. “I told you when I kiss him I pretend I’m kissing you. That’s the whole problem. Look, I like kissing. I like affection, and romance, and I’m definitely sure that eventually I’ll like sex. And I want those things with you, but if you don’t want them with me, I’m not just going to live my life without them. I’ll find other people to have them with. But it’ll always be you, in my head.” He glared at Ari for just a second before his face melted into a horrified expression. “Shit. I’m sorry. That’s so unfair. It’s not your fault you…it’s not...you haven’t done anything wrong.” Dante shook his head helplessly and covered his face with his hands. “I told you you didn’t want to hear it,” he said, his voice muffled behind them.

Ari couldn’t help but smile, and when he did, he felt it stretch across his face and fill his heart and flood the room. Dante must have felt it, too, because he looked up in confusion, his face streaked with a new set of tears. 

“Why the hell are you smiling, Ari?” he asked. 

“Dante. I came here for a specific reason,” Ari began. “And I didn’t know how it would go. For all I knew, Daniel would be here. For all I knew, you were really into him now.”

Dante shook his head slowly. “Just you,” he said softly, still sounding defeated. “I’m always only into you.”

Ari pulled his legs onto the bed so that he could turn and face Dante directly. He bit his bottom lip. He could feel his heart pounding, now that the moment was here. He wasn’t scared, exactly. He was done being scared. But what he was about to do was monumental. It would change everything. So maybe he was a  _ little _ scared. 

Not enough to change his mind, though. 

“I’m into you, too,” he said.

Dante’s eyes filled with shocked hope for a split second before growing wary. “Don’t play with me, Ari.”

“I’m not.” Ari scooted closer to Dante on the bed, and seemingly unconsciously, Dante opened up to him. He let his knees fall open, slid his feet to either side so that Ari could slot himself between his legs. “Look, Dante. I’ve been fucking terrified. I think my family might disown me, like they did my brother, and it’s not like I have any friends other than you. And you’ll get tired of me eventually. You’ll realize you’re way out of my league. So it’s this huge risk.” Dante was watching him, wide-eyed, clearly trying not to dare to hope. Ari took a deep breath, pushed onward despite how his heart was racing. It felt a little like he was jumping off a cliff and he just hoped he’d land as softly as he thought he would. 

“But the ache in your bones?” he said quietly, slowly. “The longing? I have that, too.” He snaked his arms under Dante’s bent knees, put his hands on his thighs. “And I can’t take it anymore.” 

Dante stared at him, tears still streaming, but they were different now. He seemed like he was having trouble getting a deep breath as he processed everything Ari had said. 

Ari leaned forward on his knees, needing to touch Dante. He had needed to touch him for a long, long time. He stopped an inch from Dante’s mouth. “May I…”

He didn’t even get the question out before Dante was kissing him, his hands cupping Ari’s face, and it was even better than Ari had imagined. He freed one arm from under Dante’s knee so that he could take him by the back of the neck and pull him closer. They fell back onto Dante’s pillows, and Ari couldn’t believe they hadn’t been doing this all along, that he had let fear keep him from such happiness for so long. He grasped at Dante and Dante grasped at him, like they couldn’t get close enough, couldn’t have enough contact. And right then Ari knew, beyond any doubt, that it would be worth it. No matter if his worst fears came true, it would be worth it to have what he had right that minute.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Tumblr at [rareandbeautifulthing](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/rareandbeautifulthing).


End file.
